Megan gasped when the horse took its first steps.
“Easy, Megan. You’re okay.” Nate walked the perimeter of the riding barn, Buckwheat following meekly behind, all one thousand one hundred pounds of him.
They hadn’t gone far when Nate heard Megan laugh. He looked behind him to see her smiling, her cheeks flushed with excitement. She seemed to have forgotten her fear—both her fear of the horse and the fear that had driven her here.
“See? No worries.”
He stopped when he reached their starting point.
“Are you ready, little Miss Emily?” His dad walked over and lifted Emily into the saddle in front of Megan. “Megan, wrap one arm around Emily and use your free hand to hold onto the horn.”
Emily bounced in the saddle. “Giddy-up, Buckwheat! Go!”
As obedient as Buckwheat was, he was above taking orders from a preschooler and remained defiantly still.
Fighting a chuckle, Nate let Megan get settled. “Ready?”
She nodded.
Nate started off again, sharing a smile with his dad at Emily’s delighted squeal. The old man might have had reservations about the idea of Megan’s coming here, but he’d sure gotten into the spirit of the thing—lured, no doubt, by an adorable four-year-old with big blue eyes. He watched while Nate led the gelding around the barn once, twice, clearly as gratified by Emily’s happy chatter and the smile on Megan’s face as Nate was.
“How old were you when you started riding?” Megan asked as they neared the end of their third lap.
“I don’t remember not riding, so I must have been one or two.” He glanced up to find Megan watching him.
“How long have you lived here?”
“My great-grandfather bought this spread, passed it down to my grandfather. Now it belongs to my dad. I’ve always lived here. My parents rebuilt the main house when I was in high school. I spent most of the past decade going wherever Uncle Sam sent me, but this is home.”
“It must be wonderful to have such deep roots.” There was a hint of longing in Megan’s voice.
Nate halted Buckwheat.
His dad stepped forward. “Come on down, Miss Emily. Was that fun?”
Emily nodded, a big smile on her face.
“Your turn, Megan.” Nate scratched Buckwheat’s withers. “Just hold tight to the saddle or Buckwheat’s mane, lift your right leg over, and lower yourself to the ground.”
Megan nibbled her lower lip, looking down at the ground. “If I fall…”
“If you fall, I’ll be right here to catch you.” Nate watched as Megan grasped the pommel, lifted her right leg over the gelding’s rump, and lowered herself toward the ground.
She’d almost made it when she lost her balance and began to fall backward, her left foot stuck in the stirrup.
He dropped the reins, caught her around the waist with his arm, and drew her back against his chest. He tried not to notice how his pulse ratcheted up the moment he touched her or how good she smelled or how sweet she felt in his arms, her body soft and feminine with curves in all the right places. “I’ve got you.”
She turned in his arms and looked up at him through startled eyes. “Thank you.”
And he knew she felt it too—that jolt of awareness, attraction.
For a moment, neither of them spoke or moved.
From somewhere nearby, Nate’s dad cleared his throat. “Why don’t you three head back to the house while I settle Buckwheat in his stall?”
Megan pulled away, reached for Emily’s hand. “Thanks so much for this. I suppose we should be going before it gets too late or the roads get bad.”
Nate walked to one of the side doors, opened it, and looked outside. Snow was falling thick and fast, the wind blowing hard, a good six inches already accumulated on the ground. He couldn’t even see the house. “It’s too late for that. It looks like you and Emily are our guests for the night.”
Megan let out a sigh. “Marc is going to be ticked.”
CHAPTER 6
Marc was ticked. “I knew you were going to get stuck up there. You barely know this guy. Are you involved with him?”
“No!” Megan felt her cheeks grow warm.
She wasn’t involved with Nate, but she was attracted to him. Or at least she thought she was. When he’d come up behind her, closed his hand over hers, and guided her fingers over the horse’s soft coat, she hadn’t felt sickened by his touch. Instead she’d felt an unfamiliar heat shimmer through her that had made it hard to breathe. And when she’d lost her balance getting off the horse, the shock of finding herself in his arms, his body warm and muscular against hers, had made her mind go blank.
“You sure about that?”
“I just came here so Emily could see the horses. Being surrounded by cops … I needed to get away. I had no idea we were going to get hit with a blizzard.”
And it was definitely a blizzard, the wind so strong that Megan had had to carry Emily, Nate guiding her from the stables to the house through near whiteout conditions, his arm around her shoulders.
“Do you trust him and his father around Emily?”
Megan glanced toward the kitchen, where Emily sat like a princess with a mug of hot cocoa and marshmallows, two big men seeing to her every whim.
“Yes. My pervert radar is pretty finely tuned, you know. I’m not catching any hinky vibes.” Megan took a deep breath and said what she needed to say, something she’d needed to say for a while now. “I know I’ve made a lot of mistakes, but I’m not the same person I was ten years ago or even four years ago. You need to trust me, Marc.”
For a moment Marc said nothing.
“You’re right.” The anger was gone from his voice. “I care about what happens to you. I don’t want to see you hurt again.”
“I know. You’ve always been there for me.”
“No, not always.” A heavy silence. “Well, I suppose you’re safer up there than you would be down here. We’re going through with the money drop tonight despite the storm. I have no idea if the bastards will show up. I guess we’ll see.”
Megan felt a hitch of fear in her stomach to think Marc and others would be out in the storm and in danger tonight. “Please be careful. I don’t want you or anyone else to get hurt.”
“Hey, we do this for a living, remember? I’ll let you know how it goes.”
“Thanks, Marc. I love you.”
“Love you, too, sis.”
Megan ended the call and walked back to the kitchen to find Emily with a cocoa mustache and a handful of extra marshmallows.
Nate looked up as she approached. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” But Megan could tell he didn’t believe her. “They’re going to drop off the money tonight and see if anyone shows up to take it.”
Jack stood, reached for a red-and-white checked apron that hung over the back of a nearby chair. “Nate has filled me in on what’s happening, so here’s my unsolicited advice. You’re safe and warm up here, and there’s nothing you can do about what happens in Denver tonight. So try to sit back, relax, and get ready to enjoy a pot of Cimarron Ranch Chili made by the expert. It’s a life-changing experience.”
Megan couldn’t help but smile at this smug declaration. “Can I help?”
“No!” Jack shook his head. “You all get the hell out of my kitchen.”
Nate shook his head, but the affection he felt for his father was plain to see. “Let me show you the house and get the two of you settled.”
He led Megan around the main floor. In the center were the great room, formal dining room, and the kitchen, which she had already seen. On the far side of the kitchen were a walk-in pantry, a wine cellar, a bathroom, a laundry room, and the five-car heated garage. On the far side of the great room were Jack’s office, three more bathrooms, an exercise room with a sauna, and a home theater with its own fireplace and an enormous flat-screen TV.
Upstairs, there were five bedrooms, each with its own television, bathroom and fireplace, and a library
, which also had a fireplace and floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out toward the mountains. With the sun shining, the view would be staggering. As it was, all Megan could see was blowing snow.
“This is beautiful.” Megan had seen wealth before. Her adoptive parents were relatively wealthy, and their friends had been wealthy. But never had she seen anything to equal the comfort and beauty of the Cimarron, glass and stone and wood tastefully joining the interior of the house to the landscape outside.
“It’s a bit much for two people, but it’s home.” Nate led her to a bedroom with a big four poster bed covered with a blue and green quilt and matching shams. “Why don’t we put you in here? Do you want to share a bed with Emily, or would you rather have a room to yourself?”
“Oh, we can definitely share a bed. I don’t want to make any more trouble for you than I already have.”
Nate reached up, brushed his thumb down her cheek, leaving a trail of heat on her skin. “You haven’t made trouble for us, so put that idea out of your head.”
For the span of a heartbeat, maybe two, she found herself looking up at him, lost in the warmth of his blue eyes.
“Th-thank you.” Then she remembered. “I was planning to stay at Marc’s tonight, so I packed suitcases. I need to get them from the trunk of the car.”
“I’ll get them. You just make yourself at home.”
Home.
Megan sat on the bed and looked out the window at the swirling storm. And for the first time since Donny had forced his way back into her life, she felt … safe.
# # #
Nate turned up the lights as the credits rolled on Beauty and the Beast, a movie he hadn’t seen since … well, ever. He looked over to find Emily asleep on her mother’s lap looking sweet as candy in fuzzy pink pajamas, her tiny body limp. Megan held her daughter, stroking Emily’s hair, a soft smile on her face. Out of nowhere, the photos from the Denver Independent article came back to him.
His urge to shelter and protect ratcheted up another notch. “Do you want me to carry her upstairs?”
Megan didn’t look thrilled by the idea. She clearly trusted very few people with her little girl. Nate couldn’t blame her for that. “It’s pretty far, isn’t it?”
“I promise I won’t drop her.”
Megan stood, shifting Emily into Nate’s arms.
Emily’s eyes opened, and she looked up at him from beneath heavy eyelids. She reached with one tiny hand, touched the scarred side of his face. Little blond brows furrowed, Emily’s sleepy eyes filling with a child’s sympathy. “Owie.”
Her eyes drifted shut again, her hand curling beneath her chin as she snuggled against Nate’s shoulder.
Blindsided by the child’s simple gesture, her innocent compassion, Nate’s throat went tight, a hitch behind his breastbone where his heart was supposed to be.
Get a grip, Marine.
He carried her down the hall, up the stairs, and into the guestroom, where his dad had a warm fire already burning. He waited while Megan pulled back the covers, then laid Emily gently on the bed, watching as Megan drew the blankets and quilt up to her daughter’s chin, the moment satisfying something deep inside him.
He spoke quietly. “My dad and I usually end the day talking around the fire. You’re more than welcome to join us.”
Megan bent down to plant a kiss on Emily’s forehead then stood and smiled at him in a way that made his pulse kick up a notch. “I’d like that.”
She followed him downstairs, where they found his dad, tumbler of scotch in one hand, cell phone in the other. He was sending a text message, probably discussing his plans for tomorrow with Chuck, the foreman who’d been with the ranch as long as Nate could remember. They would need to drive hay out to the cattle every day now until the snow melted enough for the cows to forage again.
His dad looked up. “Is that adorable baby girl of yours tucked in?”
“Yes, she is.” Megan sat across from him.
Nate reached for the bottle of Aberfeldy and a tumbler, poured himself a drink, truly needing it. “Want some scotch or a glass of wine?”
“I don’t drink.” She smiled almost apologetically. “But I wouldn’t mind some of your hot chocolate.”
“You got it.” Nate set his drink aside and stood, but his old man stopped him.
“Sit down. I’ll get it.” His dad tossed back the rest of his scotch, tucked his cell phone in his pocket. “I make it from scratch, you know—milk, cocoa, sugar, touch of vanilla. None of that powdered shit.”
“Thank you.” Megan’s lips twitched as she watched the old man walk away, a glint of laughter in her eyes. She met Nate’s gaze. “Your father is a real character.”
“He fought with the Army Rangers in Vietnam. I’ve always had a world of respect for him.” Nate took a drink. “The past few years have been hard on him. He misses my mom. She died five years ago.”
Megan’s gaze shifted up to the family photo on the mantel. “He told me. I’m sorry for your loss.”
Nate was surprised the old man had mentioned his mother to Megan. He didn’t often speak of his grief. “I was downrange when it happened.”
She got a puzzled look on her face.
Quit speaking in military jargon, jarhead.
“I was deployed in Afghanistan. I was deployed a lot.”
“Is that why you’re not married?” Megan’s eyes went wide, and she began to babble. “Oh, God! I’m … I’m sorry. That’s a personal question. I would think a handsome man like you… I mean… It’s really none of my business.”
“No, that’s okay.” Nate was both amused by her obvious embarrassment and moved by what she’d said. It had been a long damned time since anyone had called him handsome. “I was almost married once. I met Rachel in college. We reconnected when I was home on leave. I thought that was it. I proposed a couple years later. When I was wounded, it was just too much for her. She came to visit me about a week after I arrived at the Brooke Army Medical Center in San Antonio. I was drugged out of my mind. I thought she’d come to be with me, but she’d come to end it. She just couldn’t handle it.”
Nate watched the play of emotions in Megan’s eyes—shock, sympathy, anger.
“What kind of woman breaks up with her fiancé when he’s lying in a hospital bed? You were wounded serving your country. I’m sorry she hurt you, but if that’s the kind of woman she is, I think she did you a favor.”
“Maybe so.” Her indignation touched Nate, made him smile.
“She should have been there the entire time, helping you in any way she could.” The anger faded from Megan’s face, her gaze filling with empathy. “It must have been very hard getting through that. There’s nothing more painful than being abandoned by the people who are supposed to love you.”
Even if Nate hadn’t read the articles about Megan, he would’ve known she had personal experience with that kind of betrayal. It was there in her eyes.
Poor, sweet Megan.
And then Nate was no longer thinking about those dark days in the burn center. He was no longer thinking at all. He leaned in, trailed his thumb over the curve of Megan’s cheek—and kissed her.
At the first brush of his lips against hers, she gasped. He wanted more, the shock of physical contact singing through him. He leaned closer, cupped her cheek, increased the pressure, teasing her lower lip with his tongue.
Oh, God, she tasted sweet!
She didn’t pull away, but leaned closer, her lips going pliant.
“Hope you like marshmallows.” The sound of the old man’s voice interrupted them as he reappeared with a mug of cocoa, which he put on the coffee table. “Be careful. It’s hot.”
Nice timing, old man.
Megan jumped away from Nate as if scorched. Her cheeks bright pink, she turned her attention to the cocoa. “Thank you.”
And for a moment, Nate’s dad stood there, trying to pretend he hadn’t seen the kiss. “Well, I’m going to hit the hay. You youngsters enjoy the fire. Tomorrow’s go
ing to be a busy day. Goodnight, Megan.”
Megan looked up at him, mug of cocoa in hand. “Goodnight, Jack. And thanks for everything. Your chili really is fantastic.”
“Damn straight it is—and you’re welcome.”
He turned and left the two of them alone.
# # #
Megan’s heart was still racing as Jack disappeared up the stairs. Unable to look at Nate, she stared into the fire, gripping her mug of cocoa tightly between her palms, the ceramic hot against her skin.
Oh, God!
Nate had kissed her. He had kissed her. And she hadn’t hated it. She hadn’t felt repulsed. She hadn’t pushed him away.
Had she enjoyed it?
The answer made her heart pound harder.
It had to be an accident. He’d surprised her, and they’d been interrupted. There hadn’t been time for her revulsion to kick in.
Or maybe she really had enjoyed it.
“Megan.” Nate took the mug from her hands and set it on the table. “Look at me, Megan.”
Her pulse almost frantic, she did what he asked, the gentle understanding in his eyes taking away some of her panic. “Y-you kissed me.”
“You noticed.” He gave her a lopsided grin. “If we hadn’t been interrupted, I would have kept kissing you.”
And she felt it again—that strange flutter deep in her belly.
Almost unable to breathe, she watched as he slowly drew her hand to his lips and kissed it, his mouth lingering against her skin, heat shivering through her, his gaze never leaving hers. And then…
He seemed to be waiting for something, his gaze searching hers.
The moment passed.
He released her hand with a squeeze, gave her a smile. “You should drink your cocoa before it gets cold.”
She exhaled in a long shudder, reached for her cocoa with trembling hands, and sipped, oblivious to the creamy, chocolate taste, thoughts and emotions so tangled inside her that she couldn’t sort through them.
“Emily seems to have my dad wrapped around her pinky finger.” Nate watched her, scotch tumbler in hand.
“Yeah.” Megan struggled for words, a maelstrom raging inside her. Part of her wanted Nate to kiss her so she could see whether it had been real or just a fluke. Part of her wanted him to kiss her again just to feel it—the taste of his lips against hers, the heat of his tongue, the skipping of her own pulse. It had been … intoxicating. “You’ve both been so kind to her.”